believe me
by Ellsweetella
Summary: and it was a date once every four years, on February 29.


**A/N: This is based on a novella, "A Leap of Love" by Catherine Lim. I hope that you will enjoy it.**

 _February 29, 1996_

The teacher droned on and on, his monotonous voice turned into a dull buzz as Kate Beckett crouched over her opened notebook, carefully hidden by a bigger, heavier textbook. With the capped end of the pen in her mouth, she wrecked her mind over the next word she would choose to add on her attempt at poetry. She paused, tucked her fallen strands of brown hair behind her ears, continued to scribble and occasionally flipped the pages of the textbook to keep up with a pretense no one cared for.

Sixteen-year-old Kate Beckett was writing love poems, describing a lover she did not know. Yet. She was certain she would meet someone that would fit her dream idea of a man. She didn't think she was expecting much. She just wanted someone exciting, someone who felt as deeply as she did, who was willing to jump into the world with her.

That weren't too much to ask for.

She knew she would meet _The One_. And once she did, she would know it. Her body would know it.

She had her small share of romance with some boys in school that really didn't amount to anything. She liked them well enough. She wouldn't agree to date them if she didn't, but she wouldn't exactly call it _love._ Love was what her parents had.

She had to fall in love with the notion of love before she could love someone.

As she was trying to hide her poem from the rest of the class, she missed the longing look a certain boy had for her, missed the way his eyes followed her hands, and missed the way he gave a small sigh as he watched her.

Even if she did, she gave no thought about him. She was no stranger to the male gaze. She was in a high school after all, starting out her wild phase. She was planning to work all summer for a 1994 Harley Softail Motorcycle. Soon. Summer would come soon and she would get it. Just a little more.

For now, she would concentrate on her small poem about an unidentified lover. Words after all, were her first love. Reading and writing gave her a new breath of life. She didn't want to be an author, no, she wanted to be a lawyer, like her esteemed parents, but that did not take away her tiny love for writing.

And so she wrote, and she dreamt, shielded by the innocence of teenage hood, untouched by the cold cruelty of the world that would soon hit her.

 _"I heard  
love comes fast.  
A flash of lightning  
that leaves you  
wondering._

 _I heard  
love is silent.  
It doesn't announce  
its presence until  
it's too late  
and you are  
addicted to its  
taste._

 _I heard  
love drowns you,  
leaving you gasping  
for air but  
still, you willingly  
let yourself go._

 _And maybe  
when you enter_

 _my life,  
someday, somewhere,  
I will know  
what love  
feels like."_

….

 _December 31, 1999_

When Kate Beckett was 19, her mother was brutally murdered in a dark alley.

When Kate Beckett was 19, her father took to the bottle.

When Kate Beckett was 19, she dropped out of Stanford and transferred to New York University, from pre-law to law enforcement.

When Kate Beckett was 20, she was alone on new year's eve, sitting at the corner of a crowded bar. Tears were stinging her eyes as she gasped for air, fresh waves of pain overwhelming her. The pain never really fully subsided, leaving a dull throb wherever she went, even as she desperately found ways to drown it out.

And the detective in charge of her mother's case. How dare he. How dare they say it was random gang violence? A murder this brutal was never random. Her fingers curled up into fists and took in a shaky breath.

The anger burnt up again and combusted with the pulsating despair inside of her. The combined intensity of emotions twisted inside of her.

She would find the killer. Someday. Somehow. She would. Even if it mean that she would be swallowed and have her soul ripped into unsalvageable pieces.

The cold air stung. Why was there cold air in such a crowded place, she would never know. She took in a shaky breath.

People her age would be having fun now, partying and drinking with laughter surrounding them. Maybe they would be with their lover, partner, whatever they would be called.

Love, at the moment, was the furthest thing in her mind. There was no place for love.

A couple caught her eyes.

The man, with messy brown hair, an echo of hers, had his arms around the woman next to him. He pressed a quiet kiss to her cheek and watched her disappear into the crowd. He leaned against the wall and gave a heavy sigh, threading his fingers through his hair.

Tired.

He looked tired.

She wondered if there was a story behind them, wondered if they were happy. Wondered.

She tore her eyes away and found her way out of the crowded bar. Her head was pounding, alcohol pulsing through her veins.

"Hey."

Someone called her.

She looked up. Oh. The man. She could vaguely see him better now that they were out of the dimly lighted mess.

She wasn't really in the mood to speak.

He sensed her unwillingness and said no more, having chosen to stand in silence instead. He occasionally took a swig of his drink and stared into space, thinking about thoughts that never really connected.

"So..." He tried to start a conversation, deeming silence a tad too boring for him.

Kate Beckett rolled her eyes.

"What brings you here alone?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"It's cold." He gave up.

"You don't say," she muttered under her breath, almost rolling her eyes.

He gave a short laugh, which made her slightly more annoyed.

"Where's the woman who came with you?"

"Gina? I don't know. Getting drinks, I suppose."

"Your girlfriend?" Kate figured that it made things easier if she interrogated him.

"Wife."

"And here you are picking girls up?"

"I'm not picking you up. I'm just finding someone to talk to. I just came back from LA, for a bit to celebrate the new year in between signings. You know what parities are like with all the puke and alcohol and music. It gets really horrible in there and-"

She started laughing. He wasn't funny and here she was, laughing her head off, tears collecting in her eyes.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing." She coughed, trying to suppress her laughter. "Nothing at all."

And the sky was coated with the brightest colours that clash into one. It filled the winter night with a rare burst of hope. The crowd cheered and the world celebrated the new year and wished for a new start, away from all the demons of the past.

"Happy new year," Kate whispered and left.

Happy new year.

…...

 _February 29, 2000_

New York University was somewhere she could get used too. It wasn't Stanford, obviously so, but it had its own charm. Although she found herself enjoying NYU more and more, she was definitely looking forward to graduation. The earlier she graduated, the earlier she could enroll in the Police Academy and the faster she could become a cop. And she would find her mother's killer.

But today, today she would forget about all of that. She would forget about her father, who was most probably in some pub drinking himself unconscious, forget about her mother's killer, forget about…

It was February 29, a date that occurred only once every four years. It was a date suspended in time, protected from the realities of the universe. It balanced the world, adding a touch of whimsicality to the dead panned seriousness.

And Kate Beckett was determined to use that day to at least forget.

And the pain subsided into an itch at the corner of her mind, a constant reminder of her quest for justice.

She had popped into a bookstore, grabbed a new book - books, really, seeing how she just bought a series by Richard Castle, an author she had just discovered. Satisfied with her bagful of books, she found herself making her way to the nearest cafe, The Blue Butterfly.

And she saw him.

 _Him._

He had familiar brown hair and was sitting at a table, his eyebrows knitted as he typed away at his laptop, occasionally pausing to take a sip of his coffee. She had assumed it was coffee, seeing the lack of teabags. There was an easy smile on his face as he stared into space in between types and sips.

And she knew, right then, that he was _the one. The One_ she had been searching for since young, the existence she had forgotten about until today. Her mind was screaming at her to run to him. He was the one, fool! He was the one! Every cell in her body ached and she lost every inch of her senses.

She wasn't this bumbling idiot. She wasn't reckless. Fine, maybe she was, but still, falling in love with this stranger was not her thing. Was this even love?

And so she took a leap of faith.

She found a piece of paper in her bag and wrote:

"February 29, 2000. When a woman proposes to a man on February 29, the man must agree. I'm not proposing, but I would like to ask you out. Tonight, 7 pm at this cafe. Take a leap of faith with me?"

She handed it to a child, who eagerly gave it to the man as he saw the dollar bill that came with it. He looked to his father, who gave a shrug. With the approval, he ran to the man and handed the note to him with an innocent smile.

The man looked up, searching for a woman he had no idea of.

Kate Beckett was glad for the anonymity she had in the midst of the crowd.

And so she watched him from a distance.

Her heart sunk a little as he grinned at the waitress, who admittedly, rocked that bright red lipstick. His face was slightly flushed, tinged by a faint coat of pink as he talked animatedly with her. Kate Beckett wished she had super hearing powers.

The waitress handed him her lipstick and he bent down.

Oh. They must be... Yea.

But he emerged into the streets, his hands up high with the palms facing her. In bright red, the letters on his palms formed "OK".

Her heart leaped. She was giddy with unspeakable joy. This was so not her but she was so glad, so, so glad she had made the craziest decision of her life.

She had a date tonight.


End file.
